Sweet Serial Killer
by LuciferRising
Summary: Sam is seventeen when he is kidnapped by Lucifer, a serial killer and arsonist five years his senior. He expects the man to murder him. He's a serial killer after all- that's what they do, right? But for some reason, Sam's life is spared. Travelling from motel to motel with the man, Sam begins to wonder why he doesn't just run away. Samifer serial killer AU with some side Destiel.
1. Chapter 1

Victor Henrikson hated serial killers. And Sam Winchester had been a thorn in his side for far too long. It had all started three years ago, when the boy was only seventeen. As far as he could tell, Sam had been a model student for his whole school career, with only a few minor infractions tainting his otherwise perfect record. This had made it all the more shocking when he had gone on the run with the infamous serial killer five years his senior who was known only as Lucifer.

Victor sighed into what must have been his fifth mug of coffee that evening as he pored over Winchester's extensive file. The last known surveillance footage of the man was from three months ago. He supposed that the boy killer and his accomplice must have found a place to lie low for a little while following their almost-arrest just days before the footage was filmed.

He scanned the grainy stills from the security camera footage and sighed defeatedly. The picture was unfocused and contained no incriminating evidence whatsoever. It was from a small, independently run gas station in a town just outside of Dallas. Sam was alone and seemed to be doing nothing out of the ordinary. After all, protein bars and Pepsi could never be used as murder weapons even by killers as creative as Sam and Lucifer. And they were very creative when it came to killing. Just four months ago, they had murdered a high school chemistry teacher and sent the FBI on some kind of sick scavenger hunt to find various body parts belonging to the victim. The game had ended when Henrikson opened a parcel he had received in the post one morning to find the man's severed head. The image of the blank, staring eyes and congealing blood that still seeped out of the place where his neck was once attached haunted his dreams for weeks.

He put aside the most recent images of Sam and delved deeper into the file. He finally found what he was looking for right at the back, behind the details of Sam's original missing persons report that his brother Dean had filed just 24 hours after he 'disappeared'. It was his school photo from his junior year. Sam looked bright eyed and innocent, his floppy brown hair gleaming in the camera flash. He looked healthy, whole and happy. Not like a serial killer at all.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sighing deeply. There had been a killing down in Pontiac, Illinois only a week ago that sounded very much like your typical Lucifer-Sam murder; a slit throat and mysterious, arcane looking symbols carved all over the body. There was nothing he wanted more than to go home, put his feet up and watch Judge Judy with a bowl of potato chips and maybe a beer or two, but unless he found at least one solid lead on this case within the next few hours, he wouldn't allow himself to do so.

Henrikson stood up, stretching his arms behind his head and yawning deeply. Man, it was going to be a long night. Just as he was about to sit back down, he felt an odd shiver down his spine. His instincts were hardly ever wrong. He knew there was someone behind him and he knew that they didn't mean well. He turned around cautiously, the photo of a teenage Sam still clutched in his hand.

Lucifer was standing there. _The_ Lucifer. The Lucifer who had murdered over sixty people in cold blood just for kicks.

"Well, hi there _Vicky. _Heard you were in town."

Victor immediately reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. His eyes darted around the room, trying to find an escape route. Lucifer chuckled. "Don't bother trying to get away. You're not leaving this building alive."

"I'm gonna lock you up for life, you evil piece of shit."

"No, you're not. Is he, Sammy?"

Suddenly he felt a pair of impossibly strong hands grab both his arms and secure them behind his back with his own pair of handcuffs. Sam pulled the photo of his younger self out of Victor's hands and chuckled amusedly at it.

"Nope."

"What did you do to my men? Did you kill them, you son of a bitch?"

"I'm a serial killer, Henrikson. Of course I did, it's what I _do_."

"Sammy here is very good at killing quietly, you see. Nice quick slit of the throat with that silver knife of his and they're dead before they know what hit 'em."

Sam sauntered over to Lucifer, pressing a strangely tender kiss to his temple before turning back to face the FBI agent.

"I'm gonna take my time with you, though. You have no idea the amount of trouble you've caused us over the past few years."

Before Henrikson could move, Sam and Lucifer had each taken one of his arms and were dragging him outside into the cold, the rough tarmac of the parking lot scuffing his expensive leather shoes. He began to thrash around violently, kicking and crying out for help in a voice so desperate that it made the killers laugh.

They took him round behind the building, where Sam proceeded to gag him and tie his feet together, not even bothering to check for CCTV cameras. He liked it better when he knew that in just a few short hours, police all over the country would be forced to watch the murder over and over again.

He did indeed take his time killing Henrikson. Sam had always been the more delicate killer, preferring to let the victims bleed to death, either from the cuts he inflicted on their chest, arms and legs or from the inevitable slitting of the throat that had become his trademark, a calling card if you will. Lucifer, on the other hand, was a more violent murderer. He took pleasure from decapitating them or cutting their limbs off one by one or making holes in their skulls with power drills while Sam held them still.

He began with the chest, tearing open the agent's shirt with his silver knife as if it were made of paper and dragging the blade across his skin until dark red blood began to form along the incisions. After about fifteen minutes of carving, Sam stepped back to admire his handiwork, sticking out his tongue and licking some blood off the knife as Henrickson watched with terror and disgust. He felt warm, strong arms envelop him from behind and leant into the touch as Lucifer brought a hand up to card his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Mmm, watching you kill is so fucking hot, Sammy" he murmured into Sam's neck, smiling amusedly as Victor writhed in another fruitless attempt at escape. Sam turned around and pressed his lips to Lucifer's, the coppery taste of blood now strong in both their mouths. He deepened the kiss, and it became dirty and desperate as Lucifer pushed him up against the side of the building, pushing his hips forwards and pinning Sam to the wall. Finally he pulled away and wiped some of the blood off his chin, grinning.

"Let's finish this one off together, huh?"

Sam nodded as Lucifer wrapped his hands around his and helped him to guide the knife down to Henrikson's throat. Pressing hard into the FBI agent's skin, together they dragged the blade slowly across his throat. The crimson liquid ran down both sides of the dying man's neck and onto the yellowed grass of the tiny courtyard of the police station.

"You're fucked up, Sammy, you know that?"

"So are you. I guess that's why we love each other so much. We're made for each other."

Lucifer smiled as he put an arm around Sam's waist and led him back to the car. "MFEO, Sammy. You're mine. All mine."

Sam leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his soulmate's still bloody lips. "I'm all yours, Lucifer."


	2. Chapter 2

If Sam had to describe high school in one word, it would be 'bullshit'. The past two years had been hell; he tried so hard to maintain his almost perfect grades to keep his father off his back that he barely had time to do anything that he wanted to do. He only managed to sneak in some precious moments of downtime here and there before he had to get to work on another essay or assignment or stupid project. He'd just gotten to the stage where he physically couldn't do any more school work. And that was one of the reasons why he went on the run with a serial killer almost entirely by his own accord.

Junior year hadn't gotten off to a great start. Partially because only a week into the semester he broke up with his girlfriend of almost a year, Jessica Moore. Okay, he had been making out with one of his male best friends in the locker room, but he was just experimenting. It wasn't as if he was suddenly going to go full-on gay or anything. And then there was the whole matter of his older brother Dean. He was 21 and currently dating the preacher's son, Castiel. Who was only a year older than Sam. He realised that the age gap wasn't really that big, but the announcement of their relationship had shocked their conservative, almost completely christian neighborhood in Lawrence, Kansas. The preacher, Chuck, wasn't all too pleased, but let his son date Dean anyway; most likely out of fear of certain members of the congregation becoming angry.

Anyway, Sam had received a lot of unfounded hate because his brother was suddenly apparently gay for a high schooler. It wasn't too bad; he wasn't beaten up or shoved into lockers or anything, but it was the snide comments and bitchy little remarks that got to him.

It was a normal Monday morning in early November. Picture day was finally upon the students of Lawrence High, and for most, 'Picture Day' and 'Hell on earth' were practically synonymous phrases. Of course, you had the popular girls who looked like they were trying way too hard, with their orange foundation and pin-straight blond hair that Sam longed to pull out. God it was so obnoxious. Then there were the shy ones; the girls who tried to hide their faces behind their badly cut fringes and kept their mouths closed so that no-one would see their braces, and the nerdy guys who seriously needed to clean up their acne.

And then there was Sam, who didn't mind picture day in the slightest. In fact, he kind of secretly enjoyed it. There was something about it that made him feel important- just for that one minute when the photographer tells you how to sit and where to look and when to smile. He'd been called narcissistic on more than one occasion.

"Earth to Sam!"

Sam was shocked back into the present by the voice of Gabriel, who happened to be the twin brother of Castiel. He'd been held back for flunking sophomore year, probably because seeing Gabriel in class was about as rare as a cat flap in a submarine. Sam considered it a miracle that he even showed up for picture day.

"It's your turn, dude."  
Sam glanced over to the photographer, who was smiling warmly and beckoning for Sam to come over and take a seat. He obliged, noticing how relatively young the man looked- he couldn't have been that much older than Dean. He sat down on the stool and watched as the photographer adjusted his camera. He was blond, blue eyed and kind looking, but there was something about him that seemed a bit strange. Sam couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Okay, Mr...Winchester?"

"You can call me Sam."

"Okay then, Sammy. If you'd just like to face me?"

Sam almost didn't realise that the guy had called him Sammy until he had done as he was told and already began smiling. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't care. Usually, he only let Dean call him Sammy, and never in public, but he felt like he knew this man for some odd reason.

Within five or so seconds, the photos had been taken and it was Gabriel's turn. As Sam went to collect his little slip of paper with his order number on it, the photographer looked up from his camera and grinned.

"Hey there, Sammy. Here's your ticket."

Sam could've sworn the man winked as he handed him the piece of paper and motioned for Gabriel to come over for his picture. When he got back out into the crowded hallway, Sam glanced down at the paper to find a hand written number on the back of it. So the guy had winked at him. Seconds later, Gabriel emerged and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

"Dude, is it just me or was that photographer guy just flirting with you back there?"

Sam didn't say anything in response, but he held up the ticket with an air of barely concealed smugness. Gabriel's eyes widened.

"Sam, you've gotta stop being hit on so much. It's not normal. People already call you a slut as it is!"

"Me? A slut? I've only ever fucked Jess and that was like four months ago."

"But you've made out with like half the school. Including guys. People are starting to talk."

Sam sighed as they reached homeroom, putting his bag on the desk and sinking down into the chair, still clutching the piece of paper.

"I really don't care if people are talking shit about me, Gabe. Just let them be obsessed with me if they want to- I don't object to that."

Gabriel smiled and shook his head defeatedly. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. You've got it real bad, haven't you? You're really not that important, you know."

"I am, actually. And don't call me Sammy."

-

Lessons dragged by that day. Sam seriously considered calling that photographer guy during his lunch period but decided that it would be better to wait until after school. Thanks to Gabriel and his big mouth, almost the entire year was aware of the fact that Sam Winchester had been hit on by the cute, nameless photographer.

"Maybe he's just a pedophile" suggested Ruby, who had been trying to get into Sam's pants since the start of Sophomore year and would do anything to get rid of potential 'competition'. "Perhaps he kidnaps kids like you and keeps them as slaves or something."

"He's about Dean's age, Ruby. And I'm seventeen- hardly a child."

Ruby pouted. "Well when you find yourself being held captive in some disgusting sex torture dungeon somewhere, don't come crying to me."

She stormed off theatrically, leaving Sam and Gabriel staring after her with a mixture of disgust and amusement.

"I don't think there's anything dangerous about the guy if you ask me, Sam. Anyway, you're good at defending yourself. If he tries anything you can just knock him out and run, right?"

"I guess."

Sam swore under his breath as the bell rang, signalling the start of the next lesson. "Come on, we're gonna be late for english if we don't get a move on."

Gabriel grinned and pulled a red lollipop out of his pocket.

"No way, Sammy. English isn't my thing. I'll see ya around, okay?"

Sam shook his head with a half amused, half despairing smile. "You really have to start coming to class, Gabe. At this rate your kid sister Anna's gonna graduate before you."

"Nah. I'm gonna graduate next year. As much as everyone around here loves me I don't think the teachers will want me hanging around for longer than is absolutely necessary."

Sam watched his friend saunter out of the main door before turning and making his way to geography. He decided he was going to call the guy after school.

-

Sadly, Sam didn't get any time alone at all that day. Dean had decided that it was a good day for some 'brotherly bonding' and so Sam was forced to go to Biggerson's with him and watch his brother as he devoured almost three entire burgers. He thought it slightly odd that Dean wanted to spend time alone with him; usually every spare minute he had was spent with Castiel. Sam wondered briefly if Dean and Cas were okay. Even though he found it extremely annoying to come home to find them making out on the couch almost every day, he knew that his brother loved his boyfriend more than almost anything else in the world. And Dean was really fucking annoying when he was single, so Sam sincerely hoped that nothing bad had happened between them.

"So, Cas said that the photographer gave you his number today."

Sam nodded, avoiding making eye contact with his brother.

"So, you gonna call him, or…"

"Well I probably would have called him already, but someone thought that it would be a good idea to drag me out and watch you stuff yourself."

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I just wanted to spend some time with you like in the good old days. It's just that I feel like you've changed. And I don't know if it's in a good way or not."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Sammy. You know exactly what I mean. You used to be a straight A student and you had a nice girl and wanted to be a lawyer. You always said you wanted a white picket fence one day. Over the past six months you've changed, little bro."

Sam stared at his plate. It was true, what Dean had said. He had changed. But unlike his older brother, he liked it. Recently he had found out a lot about himself, and he found it liberating. Not giving a single fuck about anything was amazing.

"I know, Dean. But I'm still your brother, okay?"

"Good."

Dean looked down, startled. His phone was blaring out some kind of rock music ringtone.

"Hello? Oh, hey. Sure. We'll be there as soon as possible." He put the phone back in his pocket and swore under his breath. "It's Dad. He wants us to meet him at Bobby's house. Said something about an emergency."

Sam rolled his eyes. The last time Bobby had called the Winchesters telling them that there was an emergency, he just wanted someone to watch his dog while he went hunting for the weekend. So more likely than not, it was something as equally stupid this time around.

"It's almost five, Dean. It takes nearly six hours to get to Sioux Falls."

"This is Dad we're talking about, dude. If we disobey his direct orders he's gonna be pissed."

Sam put his forehead down on the tabletop with a resigned sigh. Dean was right. The ex-marine could get pretty angry with his sons sometimes. He followed his brother out of the diner and into the Impala, slipping a hand into his pocket to check that the piece of paper was still there. He promised himself that he would call in the morning.

-

Unfortunately, it turned out that there was actually a genuine emergency. Three people had been murdered that very day, including an old friend of Bobby's, Rufus Turner. When the Winchesters arrived at Singer Salvage almost six hours later, Bobby was inconsolable. He was apparently trying to destroy his own house. John was sitting in the corner of the kitchen with a glass of whisky, deliberately trying not to look at his sons or his friend. Sam noticed that there was a deep cut just above his eyebrow. He wondered if Bobby had done it accidentally whilst throwing a chair or something. He certainly wouldn't put it past him, at least not when he was as angry as this.

Dean rushed over to Bobby and grabbed his arm just in time to stop him from knocking over the table.

"Hey, Bobby! Cool it, okay?"

Bobby stopped and looked at Dean as if he wasn't aware of his presence until a second ago. He looked around, finally taking in the extent of what he had done to his home. He flopped down onto the only chair that he had not yet chucked across the room and put his head in his hands.

"What happened, Bobby? Do they know who killed Rufus?"

"Lucifer. Fuckin' Lucifer."

Dean frowned in evident confusion. "What, as in the devil?"

"No, ya idjit. The serial killer."

Sam looked down at the table to see an array of files, pieces of paper and even some blurry photographs that looked like they were from security camera footage. He bent down to pick up what looked like a newspaper clipping. It was dated two months ago.

Satanic Serial Killer, 'Lucifer', Kills Two More Victims:

'The mysterious, sadistic and psychopathic serial killer known only as 'Lucifer' has struck again. Gordon Walker, aged 48, and Bela Talbot, aged 24, were both found dead in their homes last wednesday. The killer had put a power drill completely through their skulls before carving an upside-down cross into both their chests, something that has become the murderer's trademark over the past few years. Lucifer is suspected to still be in the area, so the police are advising people to be careful when going out at night and to ensure that all their doors and windows are securely locked when they are in their homes.

The FBI special agent who has been working on the Lucifer case since early 2010 (who cannot be named for legal reasons) is confident that he is closing in on the killer and that he will be captured very soon.'

Below the article was a photograph of the killer taken about a year ago, according to the caption. Sam's eyes widened. He looked far too much like the school photographer for his liking; the same short, dirty-blond hair and beautiful blue eyes… wait, no. He couldn't think that a serial killer was in any way beautiful. Sam knew he was fucked up, but finding a mass murderer attractive had got to be a whole new level of freak. And the similarities in their appearances had to be a coincidence, anyway. Surely a wanted criminal wouldn't just waltz into a high school and pose as a photographer. It would be too risky, right?

Sam looked up from the newspaper to discover that his father had finally come out of the kitchen and was deep in conversation with Bobby.

"So you're saying that in the past few months, most of this guy's victims have been guys you know?"

"Mostly huntin' buddies, yeah. And a few people I've had the misfortune of meeting once or twice, like that Bela girl. And I gotta say, that Gordon guy wasn't exactly a friend either. But Rufus was a good guy. I'm just glad that the other two vics today weren't friends of mine as well. Those two women down in Wichita could have easily been Ellen and Jo."

John nodded, breathing deeply and taking another sip of his whisky.

"Sam, you're not going to school tomorrow. I'll rent out a motel room for us tonight. It's too late to be driving home anyway. And Dean, you can go wherever you like, I won't stop you. But you gotta be careful, okay? If this evil son of a bitch is targeting friends of Bobby then we're probably pretty high up on his hit list."

Dean licked his bottom lip in thought before nodding at his father. "I think I'm gonna go check on Cas. Bobby knows the Shurley family too, remember?"

John nodded, handing Dean a small wad of cash before turning back to talk to Bobby. When the sound of Dean's Impala was out of earshot, Sam quietly grabbed one of the thicker Lucifer files off of the kitchen table and followed his father outside. They drove until they found a motel with a vacancy, and John booked their room under one of his aliases, Edgar Cayce.

John fell asleep at around one in the morning. Sam took this as an opportunity to browse the file on Lucifer and make notes on the killings; when and where they had happened, how the victims were killed and how many murders there had been within the last few years. He finally drifted off to sleep around three hours later, with the papers still strewn across the bed and a photograph of Lucifer clutched in his hand. His last thoughts before he went to sleep were why the killer was after friends of Bobby, and what the hell he had been doing disguised as a school photographer. But what both scared and excited Sam was the fact that the thought of phoning the guy was still ever present.


End file.
